


happy life

by softdadironman



Series: sit next to me [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Baking, Comfort, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Ironfamily, It's an accident, One Big Happy Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Poisoning, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wakes & Funerals, i miss aunt may, not that much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softdadironman/pseuds/softdadironman
Summary: It's six a.m., and Peter's been up for four hours to make a cake for Aunt May's birthday party, but for some reason all the cakes taste really bad, and all of his friends are busy and he has to spend the day alone because he's stupid and doesn't tell anyone, and then apparently he put something toxic in the cake, so now he may have to go to the hospital, but all he wanted to do was make a cake for his dead aunt.ORParker luck sucks. Basically.





	happy life

Steve tossed a towel to Sam in the doorway of the backyard. He gladly accepted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Re-match?” Steve teased, and Sam tossed the dirty rag at him. Steve laughed it off; Sam pushed him lightly. 

They stumbled into the compound with quiet feet. Even though everyone else’s rooms are heavily soundproofed, they never know when Clint is sleeping in the vents or if someone (mainly Peter) is working on something in the living room. 

It’s not even seven a.m., but Peter is awake and has been for a couple hours. Sam and Steve catch him in the kitchen. 

“Oh, morning!” he chirps, slipping off his oven mitts. Sam peers over the table to see a cake in a pan. “How was your run? Who won?” Sam frowned and cocked his head towards Steve. “It’s okay, Mr. Wilson. He’s hard to beat.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked. “I think it may be time me and you have a race.” 

Peter bit his lip. “I would, but it’s not really fair. You see, I have eight legs, so…” 

“Nuh-uh,” Sam tutted. “Next time, you go with us.” He made his way around the counter to check out Peter’s cake. “Cake looks good, kid.” 

“Thanks!” 

“You’re getting really good at this,” Steve complimented. 

Peter held up a finger. “Don’t jinx me, sir. They’ve been tasting quite awfully.” He grabs a knife and cuts out a piece, but it gets stuck to the bottom. He drops it on a plate and takes a bite. 

Sam rummages through his supplies. “Are you using bad mix?” 

Peter chews on it before cringing. “It’s not good.” 

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Steve said, picking up a piece for himself. However, before Steve can even bite it, Sam yells and knocks it out of his hand. The plate falls to the floor and breaks apart. “We get it, Sam. You’re the best chef; no need to feel threatened.” 

“Peter, how many cakes have you made this morning?” Sam asked. He grabbed ahold of his shoulders and shook him.

“Uh, I lost track around… 15?” he asked. “Why?” 

“Friday, call Doctor Strange. Get him here as soon as you can.” 

“What?” Peter asked, laughing. 

Tony flew in, Iron Man suit and all. “What’re we calling Doc for? What’s hurt this time?” 

“Apparently Sam thinks my cooking is bad enough to cause food poisoning,” Peter giggled. 

“No, Peter, you--” 

“Cake?” Tony asked, reaching for a piece. 

“Don’t!” 

Doctor Strange stepped through a portal. His cloak was thrown over a black tank and a pair of sweatpants. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned, “I would apologize for my appearance if it wasn’t this early.” 

“Doc, it’s an emergency,” Sam said. “Peter’s hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt,” Peter giggles as he’s pushed into a seat. “I mean, my stomach hurts, but that’s just because all the cake I’ve had today.” 

“You called me here for a stomach ache?” Strange asked. 

“Would you rather it something worse?” Tony asked. 

Strange gave a careful look. “No,” he admitted. “But is it nothing an aspirin can’t fix?” 

“No, listen--” Sam started, but he was already being talked over. 

“It’s not that bad,” Peter sighed. “I’m tired, that’s all.” 

Tony cupped the sides of his face. “Are you an alien? My Peter, tired? Unheard of.” 

Sam stomped his foot. “Doctor, listen--” 

“Mr. Stark, really…” Peter’s eyes fluttered shut for a second before he straightened. “Maybe I did poison myself. Eugh.” 

Sam sighed as they continued to talk over him. “Guys!” 

“You use rotten eggs?” Strange guessed. 

Sam grabbed the bottle of cooking spray and tossed it to Strange. He caught it and inspected the can. When his face dropped, Peter gawked. “Is it the brand? I got the off-brand kind. Is it really that bad? It was a whole dollar cheaper.” 

“This is furniture polish.” 

Peter laughed. “It’s not that bad. Can’t be, it was a dollar cheaper.” 

“No, this is actual furniture polish,” Strange said, flipping around the can. “You sprayed this on your pan?” 

Peter gulped. “Oh no.” 

Peter put a hand over his mouth before running to the sink to puke. 

Tony ran to him and put a hand over his back. “Let it out, kid.” 

“Ewwww,” Peter groaned, wiping his face once he was done. He ran his hands under the water and washed his mouth out. “I actually feel better now.” 

“You should be just fine, Peter. Watch for a fever and bloody stool, alright?” He opened a portal.

Peter waved. “Bye, bye, Doc!” 

“That’s it?” Steve asked. “There’s nothing else you can do.” 

“He’ll be just fine. He didn’t ingest much,” he explained. “Do care of him though. No missions for the rest of the day.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Doc,” Peter said, waving his hand. “Thank you for checking me out again!” 

The Doctor smiled, a rare occurence. “I hope you feel better, Peter.” He waved his hand, orange sparks flying, and a fresh cake appeared on the counter. “Save it for when you’re better.” 

Peter beamed. “Thanks, Doctor!” The portal closed. 

As soon as the orange sparks faded, Tony, Steve, and Sam gave him an incredulous look. 

“You’re grounded from the kitchen,” Tony said. “No cooking, unless Sam is supervising.” 

“Peter, you don’t need another fever, especially not after last time,” Steve said, frowning. “Let’s get you into bed, alright?” 

“Cap, I’m okay, really. Also, you have that meeting today, don’t you?” 

“What meeting?” Steve asked, looking up at Tony. 

“The one Pepper said up with the new Secretary of the Navy? Did I… Did I not tell you about that one?” Tony asked, wincing. “Oops.” 

“Tony!” Steve hissed. “I can’t believe you.” 

“Really?” Tony asked, shrugging. “That’s kind of a believable thing for me to do.” Peter and Sam snickered. “Yeah, he asked to see us. Except, Sam and Bucky, and Peter. So, I trust you will take good care of Peter?” 

“Bucky and I had plans today,” Sam said, holding up a finger. “We have that Veteran support group, remember?” He looked to Peter, who was already had his mind spinning a mile per minute. 

“I’ll be okay by myself!” he said, trying to assure him. 

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no, I’ll have one of us stay home.” 

“No, no! I’d hate for you to miss!” Peter yelped. “I was planning on hanging out with Ned and MJ today, so I’ll just invite them over.” 

“You sure, kid?” Tony asked. 

Peter nodded. “I’m positive.” 

Uneasy, Tony continued, “Right, well, we should get going soon. Friday, keep me updated on Peter’s condition.” 

Peter smiled. “I’ll be okay. Have fun today!” 

An hour later, Sam, Bucky, and Peter were the only ones in the compound. Peter’d just finished decorating the cake Doctor Strange had miracled for him when Bucky and Sam made their way to the door. 

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him. 

Bucky, who had only woken up ten minutes ago, grumbled something under his breath. “I would gladly stay home, Peter, but it’s a bad example if I don’t go.” 

“It’s okay, Sergeant Barnes. Ned is already on his way.” He turned on his phone to show the text proof. 

“Yeah, well, go lay down, squirt,” Sam said, flicking him in the forehead. “We don’t need you dying anytime soon.” 

Peter smiled. “Bye!” He gave them a final push and shut the door behind them. 

Making his way to the counter, he slipped a cover over his cake and slipped it into a tote bag. 

His phone started to ring, and he put it on speaker phone without thinking. Afterall, he was alone in the compound. “Hey, Ned, are you guys almost here?” 

“I’m so sorry, Pete, but Ethan’s sick,” Ned griped on the other end. “And MJ spent all night with him, and I just--” 

“One of them gets sick, they all get sick,” Peter said, nodding. “I understand.” 

“Peter, really, I’m so, so sorry--” There was scrambling on the other side of the phone. Ned started whisper-yelling, and the phone dropped a few times. Eventually, the phone was picked up and someone else was slurring into the phone. 

“Peter?” MJ slurred. “Hey, pal! How’s it swinging?” 

Peter blinked a few times. In explanation, Ned sighed. “She’s high on Nyquil. Don’t worry about it, Peter.” 

“Right, well, you sound pretty busy over there,” Peter said, taking the phone off speaker and picking it up. “I hope you feel better.” 

“I’m so sorry, Peter, really. As soon as mother gets home from work, we can go. I can’t leave them alone…” 

“It’s okay, Ned,” Peter said, smiling even though Ned couldn’t see him. “You just get them to focus on getting better. Bye, bye.” There was more yelling and scrambling on the other end of the phone. The call dropped on Ned and MJ’s end, and he gave up. 

As soon as the call cut off, his smile dropped. He turned back to the bag sitting on the counter and sighed. 

He slapped himself in the face to try and trick himself into perking up. He muttered some words of encouragement to himself before standing up, grabbing the tote bag, and making his way out the door. 

Swinging would’ve been difficult with the precious cargo, so he opted for the train. Still, trains could only take you so far. On one hand, he could’ve asked Happy, but he never wanted to trouble him. 

He only had to do a couple blocks of walking. With the bag in hand, he stumbled into the cemetary. 

The cemetary in Queens was quiet today. Dark clouds hung over the cemetary. Rain was inevitable, but Peter was really hoping his Parker luck would go away just for one day. 

One day is all he wanted without anything going bad. 

Peter stumbles up the hill they buried his aunt on. He sets the tote bag by her headstone before sitting in front of it. He pulled a blanket out of the bag and sprawled it out on the grass. He picked the cake out of the bag and put some candles on it. 

“Happy birthday, May!” Peter exclaimed, ripping the cover off to reveal the strawberry cake. “Ta da!” Peter ripped the candles out of the box and stuck them in the cake. “You won’t believe what I did for this cake. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong the whole time! Kinda like that one time Ben used the wrong oil for dinner and gave us all food poisoning.” He laughed, bringing some hair out of his face. 

He pulled a lighter out of the bag and lit the candles. “I know you hate it when I sing, but,” he said, snickering, “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Aunt May--!” Suddenly, lightning struck, and Peter frowned as water rained down above his cake. He covered the cake with the foil, but it was too late. The candles were out. “Is my singing that bad, May?” Lightning struck again. “Alright, alright, I won’t sing again.” 

He fished through his bag for some Lilies. “Hey, I also got you these. I know you don’t like the yellow ones, but they look pretty with the pinks and whites. The lady said they were in season, so…” He picked out the flowers in her vase and replaced them with the Lillies. “I think they’re nice. Very nice.” 

Peter chirps again and pulls a tupperware container out of the bag. “Also, I made lunch, but my stomach is hurting, so I can’t eat much, and you can’t eat so…” He frowned. “I’ll give it to Timothy.” Timothy was the local homeless man to the cemetary, but May had never met him. “Oh, but what if there’s polish in this too?” He frowned. “I’m kind of a fool.” 

He sprawled back on the blanket. The rain didn’t stop pouring; in fact, it only got harder. Eventually, Peter was shivering, so he tried to wrap what he could in the blanket. Eventually, he felt so dizzy, he just decided to take a nap. 

On the other side of the city, Sam and Bucky had just returned from their meeting. Both of them are slightly out of breath. If only Sam could run as fast in the morning with Steve, maybe he’d have more of a chance. Put a sick Peter on the end of the trail, and Sam will run the fastest he’s ever done. Or a dying person, either or. 

“Peter?” Bucky asked, storming inside. Sam put a finger over his lips and glared at him.

“He could be asleep,” he said, shoving him. “Friday, where is Peter?” 

“He left the compound,” she replied. “Karen… is offline.” 

“Offline? What?” Bucky asked, concern lacing his voice. 

Sam waved it off. “Didn’t he say he was hanging with his friends today? He’s probably fine.” 

Bucky made a face. “When is he ever fine?” 

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but he shut his mouth. He was right. Peter really was a trouble magnet. Bad things tended to happen to him. 

“What type of teenager doesn’t bring his phone with him?” Sam grumbled. “Friday, call Tony.” 

In the meeting, Tony discreetly slipped on his sunglasses to hide his closed eyes. Throughout the meeting, he ended up snoring, which earned him a harsh step on the foot by Pepper. He shuddered awake and shifted in his chair. 

“This is boring,” he whispered. Pepper widened her eyes in an intimidating way, but Tony was already standing. “Secretary, I’m so sorry to leave like this, but I have a sick kid at home.” 

“I wasn’t aware you had a child,” she said, surprised. She held out her hand to shake. “I completely understand.” 

“You need a hand with him?” Bruce asked, shifting in his chair. “You see, I am a doctor, so…” 

Cueing in on it, Tony elaborated. “Yes, yes. Exactly. We should get going.” Steve looked up with pleading eyes, and Tony sighed. “I think we’re wrapped up here; don’t you think?” 

The secretary put a hand on her hip. “We have a couple more forms…” Tony glanced at Pepper. 

“I’ll take care of them,” she said, sighing. “Tony, go home and take care of Peter.” 

Smiling, Tony pressed a kiss to her cheek. The other Avengers, minus Rhodey, stayed in the room with the secretary. 

Once out of earshot, the secretary tried to make small talk. “So, Peter? How old is he?” 

“I’m not sure,” Pepper said, thinking. “Sixteen? Fifteen?” 

Gaping, she stopped. “You don’t know the age of your own child?” 

“Oh, ma’am, he isn’t… He isn’t mine. He’s… Well, he’s the Avengers, technically. They have legal custody over him.” 

“Avengers property? What is he, a war machine?” she asked, laughing. 

Pepper, blank in the face, nodded. “They take care of him.” 

The secretary motioned for her assistant to come close. “I’m not so sure The Avengers are capable of raising a child.” She leaned over to whisper something in her assistant’s ear, who nodded and walked away quickly. 

Pepper, rising to her feet, glared. She signed off some final forms quickly. “Ma’am, I assure you, Peter is well taken care of.” 

“It’s just a precaution, Mrs. Potts.” 

  
  


Tony stretched his arms over his head and fell into a seat on his jet. Clint face planted to the floor and pulled a blanket to wrap over him. 

Exhausted, they began the flight in pure silence until Tony’s phone started ringing. “Boss,” Friday announced, “Peter has gone missing.” 

Instantly, everyone was stirring. “He’s gone missing?” 

A feed from the compound was put through. A worried Bucky and Sam hologram was displayed on the jet. “Karen is offline, and he’s not here. Anywhere. And he left his phone here.” 

“He’s probably out with his friends,” Tony said, yawning. “Didn’t you call Ted?” Sam and Bucky exchanged looks. “We’ll be home in ten minutes.” 

The call ended, and Tony tried to hide his concern. 

Sam put the call through Friday, and Ned picked up on the fourth ring. “Peter,” he greeted, sounding exhausted. There was loud screaming on the other side. “No, no, Ethan, don’t--! Roll over!” The phone dropped, and Sam waited patiently for the screaming to subside. A few seconds later, a sniffling Ned picked up the phone. “Sorry about that, Peter. How’s the party going?” 

“Party?” Sam asked. 

Ned gasped. “Oh, shit, did you kidnap Peter? Peter!” 

“Relax, kid,” Bucky chimed in, rolling his eyes. “What party?” 

“Oh, the Winter Soldier!” Ned said. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. Um, and what do you mean, what party? Did he not ask you? He said he did…” 

“A party?” Sam asked, stiffening. The door opened and the others walked in, joining their side. 

“I told you,” Tony said. “He’s doing normal teenage things. Parties are normal.” 

Clint cocked his head. “Parties aren’t really Peter’s thing.” 

“Why didn’t Peter ask us about the party?” Bruce asked, sounding offended. “Is it… bad? Is he drinking? Peter would never…!” 

“What?” Ned asked, laughing. “No, not that kind of party.” His laughing stopped. “Peter said he was going to ask you guys to go with him.” 

Sam blinked a couple times. “To a teenage party?” 

Ned, exasperated, sighed at the continuous yelling in the background. “Oh, MJ, not you too! Trashcan, MJ!” Ned sniffed through his stuffy nose. “Oh, shit…” 

“Ned,” Tony said, crossing his arms, “I need you to tell us where Peter is.” 

“Right, right… No, no, no, come on, not the carpet!” Ned sighed. Tony repeated his name. “Right, sorry, it’s May’s birthday today. He was throwing a party, and since we couldn’t go, he said he was gonna ask you… He didn’t, did he?” 

Tony paled. “No, no, he didn’t.” 

“Thank you, Ned,” Sam thanked. The screaming continued, and Ned yelled an apology before abruptly ending the call. 

“Friday, locate May Parker’s--” 

“I know where he is,” Tony said. 

After all, Tony had been the one to host the funeral. He took care of the most of it, but at the actual thing, he could barely stand to be there. The whole day Peter was in mourning, and it shook Tony up. It was that day Peter came home with him and left his empty house. He didn’t speak to him for the whole day. 

Happy drove them to the cemetary. Tony hiked up the hill with the others behind him. 

He started picking up his pace. The kid had eaten a certain amount of polish that morning, and now it’s his late aunt’s birthday? How pathetic is that? And none of them noticed? No one knew. 

He hadn’t told a single soul. He couldn’t have. 

Tony had expected Peter to be passed out or dead. However, once he reached the top of the hill, he was neither of the things. 

Peter was sipping on the energy drink in his hand, the ones Pepper had begged him to stop buying, and the one Tony steals so Peter can’t drink them. He finishes chugging it before tossing it into a makeshift trashbag. 

The rain is still pouring, and it has been for a while. Peter’s drenched, but he doesn’t even care. 

“I wish you were here, May,” Peter said. He tears open a bag of balloons and huffs air into it before tying it at the end. He tosses it and watches it fall to the ground. “I know, you told me you weren’t a fan of his, but… He takes good care of me. They all do.” 

He picks up the balloon and throws it in the air. “It’s really loud there. Really chaotic. Not to mention, the compound gets attacked every so often. But, I still feel really safe there? Even when I eat large amounts of furniture polish…” He chuckles lightly. “But I mean it. I’m in good hands.” 

He leans forward and presses his forehead against the cold of the gravestone. “You always worried a lot for me, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m okay,” he said, smiling. “I’m happy with them. I miss you like crazy and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt anymore, but… I am happy. So, don’t worry, May. I’m okay. I’m okay.” 

Tony looked behind him at the fellow stunned Avengers. 

Honestly, they really lucked out with this kid, didn’t they? 

“I know I’m kind of cursed,” he said, laughing. “But I had you. And… I lost you.” He sat up straight. Folding his hands together, he closed his eyes. “God, please, don’t take them away from me. Please.” 

Tony, without even thinking, stumbled forward. He kneeled next to Peter, who flinched at the sudden brushing at his shoulder. “Hey, God?” Tony asked, looking up. “Yeah, praying isn’t really my thing, but you owe us for all the shit you’ve put us through, so honor the kid’s wishes, yeah?” Peter smiled warmly. “Keep him from dying, will you? And away from furniture polish in the near future?” 

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Peter asked, eyes sparkling. 

“No,” Steve said, sinking to sit beside him. Then, Sam and Bucky. Nat and Clint. Bruce. They were all there, surrounding the kneeling kid and the gravestone. 

“May, I hope you don’t mind if we steal your birthday wish,” Peter said. “But I think that’s what you want.” He jabbed a finger at the surrounding Avengers. “Which means nothing is allowed to happen to you guys. No dying or anything. May said so, and you have to listen to her.” 

“Trust me, kid,” Tony said, bringing an arm over his shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

The rain didn’t let up. They moved the cake into the car to move the celebration to the compound. Sam helped Peter off the ground and led him into the car. 

Tony, Bucky, and Steve were the only ones left on the gravestone. 

“May, I promise to take care of him,” Tony said, clenching his fist. “I know I won’t ever be able to take your place, but… I’ll do my best. I’ll take care of him.” 

They say not to make promises you can’t keep. And making promises to Peter and his Parker luck made him uneasy, but he did it anyways. He’d be damned before he let anything happen to this kid. 

At home, they lit the candles. Peter made sure to cut the first piece and leave it in the empty seat next to him for May. They sang, and they celebrated. 

Pepper stormed in, soaking wet. Tony greeted her with a glass of wine. “How was the meeting?” Noticing her grim expression, he lowered the glass. “That bad?” 

“Tony,” she rasped, “we have a problem.” 

_ Really.  _

_ It’s the Parker luck.  _

**Author's Note:**

> so i leave for camp so im trying to update as much as i can!
> 
> also hey look?? actual plot?? whats that about???? whoaaaa
> 
> as always, kudos and whatever yall know the drill, send me hatemail bc i LOVE talking about marvel so (my @ is softdadironman) shameless sponsoring for some marvel related convos so hmuuuuuuuu pls
> 
> i hope yall liked, also more shameless sponsoring for my longfic i just posted bc i worked hella hard on it so go appreciate it pls i'll love u forever
> 
> and honestly thank u all so much for all the support u give me!! ily all bless


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